


intangible

by karasun013 (Amiria_Raven)



Series: flightless crows [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Pining, Pining Yamaguchi, not a graphic description of injury, very light yamatsukki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amiria_Raven/pseuds/karasun013
Summary: For once, Tadashi allowed himself to forget that no matter how hard you work, there’s always a breaking point.OR:The one where Yamaguchi Tadashi gets an elbow strain from working too hard on his serves.





	intangible

**Author's Note:**

> At least I didn't make Yamaguchi get hit by a car, too, amirite? :P
> 
> Subtle yamatsukkis for youuuuuu. I had a lot of fun with it!

_The serve is, undeniably, the only solo play in volleyball_.

Yamaguchi Tadashi knew this well. He also knew that his serve was, arguably, his only weapon. Everyone else on the team had their own strengths and weaknesses, and while Tadashi was admittedly a little better at receives than Hinata, he often froze up when he was in a match. He’d definitely improved from their first year to their second, but not enough when they had some pretty solid receivers hiding among their third years.

So Tadashi practiced.

He remembered when Tsukki would arch one eyebrow at him, questioning, when he said he was going to keep practicing his serves for a while longer. He had rarely turned down nights of studying with Tsukki for anything, but then at last year’s qualifiers, when he watched Tsukki finally fall headfirst into volleyball even though he’d been dancing around it all these years, Tadashi knew he had to do something _more_.

If there was anything he liked more than the thrill of a no-touch service ace, it was making plays that he could be proud of. Plays that Tsukki complimented him on.

Maybe, if he was being honest, it was a little more about Tsukki noticing how well he was doing than the fact that he was actually not as pathetic as he used to be, but that wasn’t really worth thinking about.

Tadashi didn’t know when he decided that his jump float serve just wasn’t enough anymore.

There were a lot of things he couldn’t do, though he was definitely getting better at working with the team when he got switched in than he had been last year. He couldn’t block like Tsukki, or like Kageyama, or even like Hinata, but he could rival Ennoshita’s blocks sometimes. He couldn’t jump like Hinata, but then again no one else on the team could, either. The closest was still Azumane Asahi, last year’s ace, and he’d graduated so he technically was an alumni and not a member anymore.

There were a lot of things he couldn’t do, so Tadashi tried to expand the things he _could_.

His serves weren’t flawless, of course. Everyone messed up sometimes, and it had taken far too long for Tadashi to come to terms with the simple fact that he couldn’t be running at one hundred percent all the time. Even Hinata couldn’t do that, though he sure as hell tried sometimes. And jump float serves took a lot of concentration. If he let his nervousness get to him, at least six times out of ten would end in a point for the other team–though, of course, some of that information had been gathered while playing scrimmage matches with Nishinoya Yuu, the Guardian Deity of Karasuno on the other side, so maybe that wasn’t an accurate way to judge his success rate.

He was still hungry for more.

Hinata had quicks, speed, his jump height, inhuman reflexes, and an ungodly amount of stamina at his disposal.

Kageyama had quicks, game sense, reflexes, an all-rounder sort of ability, and his pride at his beck and call.

Tsukki had his height, intuition, and quick-thinking to make for some of the scariest read blocks Tadashi had seen since Nekoma’s captain Kuroo Tetsurou.

Tadashi had jump float serves.

It seemed unbalanced and unfair, just a little, that the other guys in his year could get all of this talent, and Tadashi was stuck with one strength. A strength that he had built from the ground up when he realized that he was being left behind in a sport he loved by people his own age, that he spent hours honing so that he could use it competitively as a weapon with a decent rate of success.

And so he decided to take matters into his own hands. If he’d had to work for his first and currently only weapon, then he’d probably have to work for every other one he could get, too. So he first sought out Kageyama for a few tips on learning how to serve the way the setter did.

“Why would you need to serve like that?” Kageyama blinked, cocking his head. “Your jump floater is a good move, you could just practice it more.”

Tadashi had forced a laugh, waving his hand. “I just wanted a few more options, is all. Is that a bad thing?”

Kageyama frowned, his expression a lot more intimidating than he knew it was meant to be, and then at length shook his head. “No. I just don’t get why you’d need something else when you’ve already got a strong attack.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Tadashi shot back, stretching a little. He noticed Hinata getting antsy about the lack of tosses heading his way, and Tsukki was glancing over, raising an eyebrow in question. “Why do you and Hinata always want to learn new tricks and change your quick when you have so many combinations that work?”

“Because other teams can still figure out how to counter it,” he responded immediately, as if it was a no-brainer.

“Exactly,” Tadashi retorted, snorting. “If they know I do jump floaters, they’ll know what to expect and how to counter it. Even if I score two or three points in a row, they’re going to pick it up sooner or later. But if I can surprise them…”

The understanding sparked in Kageyama’s eyes and he nodded. “That’s true. It’ll be hard to do a serve like Oikawa, though…”

At that, Tadashi laughed for real. “Oh, please, I’m _never_ going to be able to do a serve like Oikawa, are you _kidding_? I just want some options!”

“Bakageyama! Throw me a toss!” Hinata had finally had enough of waiting, shouting from across the court. “I want to practice that new quick again!”

Kageyama’s thoughtful expression, while still mildly terrifying, morphed into a scowl and he shouted back, “Hang on a minute, dumbass!”

“Don’t hold back on my account,” Tadashi raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, grinning. “You guys are our biggest weapon! I wouldn’t want to deprive the best decoy of a little bit more practice, now would I?”

The setter frowned a little, like he wanted to say something, but settled for, “I’ll help you with your serve sometime, if you want. I’m probably not a good teacher, though.”

“As long as you don’t yell at me like you yell at Hinata,” Tadashi shrugged, then shuddered a little. “I’m a lot more fragile than he is.”

He turned to head back to where he’d been practicing his receives with the third years, but Kageyama’s voice made him pause for a moment. “You’re not fragile.” When Tadashi glanced incredulously at Kageyama, he averted his gaze and muttered, “I’ve heard you yelling at that asshole,” he jerked at thumb at Tsukki, who thankfully was distracted by blocking a few of Tanaka’s spikes. “If you’ve got the balls to yell at him like that, you don’t have the right to call yourself fragile. Ever.”

Tadashi snorted, a rush of heat rising to his cheeks at the praise.

“Tsukki and I are just old friends,” he brushed it off. “He lets me get away with a little more than most people.”

Kageyama snorted in return and just said, “If you say so,” before Hinata whined again. Kageyama snapped back and their conversation dissolved into the familiar banter and bickering Tadashi was used to hearing.

At least now he had a plan. Kageyama would try to help him learn another type of serve, so maybe he could expand his repertoire and actually do a little more than a jump floater in competitive play.

When Tsukki asked him about his conversation with Kageyama later, on the walk home together, Tadashi just chuckled and told him, “I’ve got a plan!”

* * *

 

It had only been a month, and Tadashi knew more than anyone how long a new serve took to get the hang of. It didn’t help that Kageyama had been just as terrible a teacher as he’d been afraid of, but Tanaka and Coach Ukai both were able to help out some, too, so there had definitely been some progress. He had nowhere near the power that Tanaka had, in his serves, but he was getting close to the power that Hinata was managing in his own attempts to learn a jump serve. Hinata still hadn’t pulled a successful power serve like that in a match yet, though, so they were on the same page for once.

This was one battle that Tadashi was determined to come out on top of.

He had height, and even if his jump didn’t come close to rivalling Hinata’s, his limbs were longer and he might be able to get more momentum. What Tadashi had over Hinata aside from that minimal advantage, however, was his precision.

Hinata was a center ace in the making and everyone knew it. His mid-air battles at the net? Those were unstoppable. It’s like he could see the whole court from up there, and he used it to his advantage as often as humanly possible. It was kind of uncanny. But from the position of server, Tadashi had the advantage.

It was the only solo attack, and it was Tadashi’s only strength.

He’d learned precision from hours and hours of practicing, whether in the streets with Shimada or in the gym during free practice. He’d learned how to hit with just enough force that the ball would drop where he wanted it to at least eighty percent of the time, and he was good at floating it towards the ace or a back line setter to try and force the receive. And while it was difficult to find precision at higher speeds, with more force, Tadashi was no stranger to practice. So he kept it up, and he could at least aim roughly where he wanted.

The power was still lacking, and he still hit the net more often than he’d like, but he was getting somewhere, and actually getting there faster than Hinata.

For once, Tadashi allowed himself to forget that no matter how hard you work, there’s always a breaking point.

* * *

 

It was the night before the final day of the Tokyo training camp, and Tadashi was frustrated.

He still hadn’t managed a successful jump serve in a practice match, although there were a few in practice in the previous weeks. Ukai was switching him in enough to give him ample opportunity, and while he’d done a few jump floaters that worked, most of his jump serves otherwise had hit the net or been home runs.

Tadashi forced himself to take a breath and steadied himself for one more go.

 

The next morning, he was calm.

It was kind of an eerie calm, like the calm before a storm, but he was prepared. Today was the day. He would make sure of it. Of course...he couldn’t be positive, but by telling himself, firmly, that he would succeed today, Tadashi felt at least a smidgeon more confident than he had before.

He’d managed three successful serves last night before Tsukki had tracked him down and made him stop. His arm was a little sore, but he remembered a similar feeling from when he’d first been learning the jump floater from Shimada, so he didn’t think too much of it. Tsukki had made him ice it when he mentioned it, his eyes doing that thing where he was both creepily calculative and probably mildly concerned.

Tadashi had laughed and iced his arm to make Tsukki happy and had tried not to blush at the attention.

He was switched in during the first match after lunch, against Fukurodani. He led with a jump floater, aiming towards a first year in the back line that didn’t have as much experience with that particular type of serve, and scored a service ace. Good. It gave him a much needed boost, the desire to do more and do better, and he flexed his hand before the whistle blew. Tadashi switched his stance just slightly for a jump serve, and allowed his shoulders to relax.

_You have eight seconds after the whistle blows._

A slow breath out, two, three, and toss.

 _Good_.

It went up in a perfect arc, and Tadashi followed it with his eyes as his body slid smoothly into motion. One step, two, and jump.

His arm reeled back and he felt a shock of discomfort build, but he pressed onward. The ball was perfectly placed, almost as if it was a set he was spiking, and Tadashi’s hand flew forward. It struck perfect, his hand making a solid connection with his serve toss and sending the ball across the net.

It hit the ground on the other side, in bounds and just out of the libero’s reach, but the satisfying sound of it hitting the court was drowned out by the terrifying _pop_ that sounded from his elbow.

The pain raced up his arm almost as quickly as the panic seared through him, and as soon as his feet hit the ground he stumbled back with a startled, pained whimper, fingers splayed protectively around his elbow.

At first, the team was cheering for his new no-touch service ace and normally he would have been, too. A no-touch service ace was his favorite feeling in the world. Tanaka had turned to clap him on the back, to congratulate him, and Tadashi saw the way his face quickly changed from elation to concern, and then suddenly Tsukki was there.

He’d been in vanguard, right at the net, so it meant that he’d turned to look back at Tadashi instead of following the path of the ball.

Tadashi didn’t know if it was because of the sound he’d made or if Tsukki just had some sort of sixth sense, but he was still glad it was Tsukki first. He could hardly think through the shooting pain running up and down his arm, and Ukai and Takeda were rushing over, along with Yachi and one of Fukurodani’s coaches.

“Tsukki,” he bit out. “It _hurts_.”

“That’s what you get for overworking yourself, idiot,” Tsukki hissed back, but his hand on Tadashi’s shoulder was firm and gentle all at the same time. “What happened?”

“It...there was a pop,” he admitted, gritting his teeth. He could tell the other coaches were listening in, but he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone and could just focus on the way Tsukki was grounding him in the moment. “I-it kind of hurt, a little, on the backswing, and then it j-just _popped_ or something when I hit the b-ball.”

It was hard to focus on talking, but he managed. He heard Tsukki breath in, a short breath that could mean anything–surprise, anger, perhaps even how he was reacting to biting back some kind of Tsukishima Kei class snark. He hoped it was just surprise or something.

“Let me take a look, Yamaguchi,” he heard Ukai’s voice, and he slowly cracked his eyes open. Tsukki was still there, but he was standing back, his fingertips barely grazing Tadashi’s shoulder, as Ukai looked imploringly at him. He took a breath and nodded a little, wincing when he managed to pry his fingers away. It was tender to the touch, and the skin around his elbow was already turning a blotchy sort of red. When he stretched his arm out for Ukai to look, a shooting pain shot through his upper arm and he drew it back towards himself with a strangled yelp.

Ukai’s hands were gentle, and he was careful about looking it over, but he still grimaced a little when he lightly prodded the area and Tadashi hissed, barely resisting the urge to yank his arm back once more.

“Might be a strain,” the assistant Fukurodani coach observed when Ukai looked to him, and he sighed.

“That’s what I was afraid of. One of my teammates did the same thing back in the day, the exact same way.” Ukai let go of Tadashi’s arm, careful not to jostle it, and looked down at him with a concerned frown. “We’ll have to get you to the doctor to find out for sure, Yamaguchi. I’ll–”

“You’ll stay here with the team,” Takeda interjected before Ukai could say anything else. “I’ll take him to the doctor while you stay here and coach the team.”

Tadashi couldn’t work past the lump in his throat for long enough to speak, and no one pressed him to. Now that coach Ukai wasn’t in his space anymore, though, Tsukki had stepped back up and put his hand more firmly on his shoulder.

“I was afraid of something like this,” he muttered, not looking directly at Tadashi.

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi almost whimpered, biting his lip. “I’m pretty pathetic, aren’t I?”

Fingers tightened on his shoulder. “Pathetic? _You_?” Tsukki’s tone was flat. “You work harder than anyone else.”

Tadashi blinked, looking up. Tsukki met his gaze, eyes hard and determined, and Tadashi swallowed, looking away quickly. “But I…”

“Don’t,” Tsukki squeezed once more and lifted his hand as Takeda came back towards them. “You only hurt yourself because you’re actually trying. Just be more careful about it next time.”

“You actually said something nice to me,” Tadashi said blankly. Tsukki turned away, the ghost of a _tch_ reaching Tadashi’s ears.

“Just focus on getting better.”

Even with his elbow aching, Tadashi felt the corners of his lips tug up in a smile. It was one that Tsukki probably heard when he offered a familiar, “Sorry, Tsukki!” to the space between them. He hummed in acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything else, and Tadashi was left to cradle his arm against his body and fight back the errant thought of, _I wonder if Tsukki was blushing_?

Takeda was there then, urging Tsukki to head back to the game. He did, with one more backwards glance at Tadashi before jogging back to the net.

Yachi came up with a bag that he recognized as the designated _if anyone needs to go see a doctor_ bag, and the two of them bustled Tadashi out to the waiting car. One of the Tokyo teams’ coaches was in the driver’s seat, and Takeda settled in the passenger seat after making sure Tadashi and Yachi slid into the back seat.

The strange Tsukishima Kei brand of comfort aside, all Tadashi could feel was frustration, eating away at him from the inside.

* * *

 

Tadashi was sprawled across the floor of Tsukki’s room with his ice pack pressed to his elbow, staring blankly at the ceiling. Tsukki himself was somewhere downstairs, getting them something to drink and a snack before the two really settled in to study. There was an exam tomorrow, and Tadashi could fully admit, for once, that he was probably grossly underprepared for it. He hadn’t really been interested in studying, now that his stress reliever–volleyball–was temporarily off the table.

He had at least two more weeks of recovery to go on his strained elbow, and he was tired of waiting.

Hinata had finally managed to start getting his jump serves over the net with some regularity, though half of them were still home runs at best and some of the others were just net-ins, but Tadashi couldn’t help feeling that Hinata would soon be leagues ahead of him again. Just the thought of that had him itching to sneak in some serve practice, but the last time he’d nearly given in to the idea, the look Tsukki gave him had sent ice down his spine.

There would be no serve practices until the doctor said so. Or until Tsukki’s glare finally faded from Tadashi’s mind. Whichever came first.

At the very least, Tadashi had been allowed to join in the laps for the last week. The first week since his injury, back at training camp, Ukai had been cautious. Even jogging had been off the plate for a while, while the coach touched up on his knowledge of sports injuries and the treatments for them just to make sure he didn’t accidentally let Tadashi further his injuries.

The floor creaked just in time to announce Tsukki’s return and pull Tadashi from his thoughts, and Tsukki looked down his nose at where Tadashi was sprawled across his floor. He supposed it was a new sight for Tsukki, since he’d been sitting up when his friend had disappeared downstairs. He thought about sitting back up, but if he did that he’d be faced with his math assignment again and he really didn’t want to deal with that.

“You were thinking about stupid things again,” Tsukki accused, tone flat. He dropped a bottle of water on Tadashi’s stomach with little fanfare, his own tucked in the crook of his elbow so he could carry the plate with him. Tadashi’s breath rushed out, and he chuckled weakly.

“You don’t know that,” he turned his eyes back to the ceiling above him so he wouldn’t follow the long lines of Tsukishima Kei as he settled back into his place at his low coffee table.

Despite avoiding the temptation to look over at his friend, he could feel Tsukki’s eyes on him, and when he finally caved and looked over he could see the completely unamused expression on Tsukki’s face.

“You think I don’t know you at least that well?” he said very deliberately, holding Tadashi’s gaze almost as if he had waited until after Tadashi had looked over at him for that purpose alone. Tsukki always timed things like that–at the perfect place to make Tadashi at least feel sheepish over ever having doubted their friendship, and the perfect moment for his stomach to do a flip in his chest at the errant _he cares_ that flitted across his mind with a new wave of warmth.

Tadashi just groaned, dropping his uninjured arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to look at Tsukki _or_ keep staring at the same spot on the nondescript ceiling. And also so he didn’t have to really worry about the way his cheeks would give him away when he thought about how _sweet_ it was for Tsukki to admit he paid attention.

“You’ll think I’m being pathetic,” Tadashi whined, trying not to imagine earning Tsukki’s disdain.

Tsukki snorted. “Only because you’re avoiding the subject.”

“I just want to play again,” he blurted, almost before he could decide what he actually even wanted to say. “I mean, Hinata’s going to just keep getting better and I don’t want to lose to him in serves. Serves are _my_ thing, not his. I can’t let him take those, too.”

“Petty,” Tsukki observed calmly, and Tadashi felt a whine building in his throat before he continued, “but not pathetic. Everyone feels threatened by Hinata. It’s hard to believe he’s even human.”

It was Tadashi’s turn to snort at Tsukki’s unexpected honestly, where Hinata was concerned. He hated feeling inferior to Hinata, and Tadashi lifted his arm a little to glance sideways at Tsukki to see what kind of expression he was making.

Tsukki held an apple slice between his fingers and had just taken a bite before he lifted an eyebrow at Tadashi. He chewed slowly, and Tadashi swallowed. The fact that he was still paying attention to Tadashi instead of returning to his studies was surprising, and he felt his face start to heat up at the gaze. Calm, calculating, and surprisingly soft amber watched him, and his breath stuttered in his throat as he stared back. He wanted to say something, but words were lost in the haze of the moment–of soft thoughts and a want he didn’t dare verbalize, etched so deeply in the back of his mind that he wondered if he’d ever utter it aloud.

After what seemed like much longer than the actual seconds that had passed, Tsukki sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I did say something nice again. Don’t get used to it.”

The spell, whatever it had been, was broken. Tadashi laughed, letting his arm drape across his heated cheeks while he did, and then once he’d started to regain his composure, he sat up. Then teased, “Apple slices, Tsukki? I thought we were getting too old for that.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” he answered with little remorse, grinning as he reached for his own apple slice.

Tsukki huffed a sigh and fell silent, flipping a page in the English textbook. Tadashi smiled to himself and adjusted the ice pack taped around his elbow, wincing a little when he touched a tender spot and when he moved his arm wrong, before he clumsily picked up his pencil with his left hand to keep working on his homework.

Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be ambidextrous by the time he finished recovering, so he could spike with his left hand and _really_ throw everyone off.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Tsukki stated boredly, flipping another page.

“Shut up, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi shot back before he could think better of it. Tsukki just snorted.

* * *

 

“One more week,” Ukai promised as Tadashi flexed his arm. There was a bit of stiffness, a residual ache that his doctor said may occasionally flare up and warned him not to overexert again, and his hunger burned. “After your last checkup this Friday, as long as you’ve still got the all-clear from your doctor, you’ll be able to start practicing serves again. Stick to laps and receives today, okay?”

“The doctor said–”

“She said that you should be fine, Yamaguchi, I know,” Ukai rested a warm hand on his shoulder, “but she also said to take it easy this week. I know you want to get right back into it, but you need to worry about the strain. Don’t do too much too fast, or you’ll end up right back where you’ve been–on the bench and unable to play.”

Tadashi groaned in exasperation, then shut his mouth sheepishly, expecting the coach to be angry with him. Ukai, however, was grinning.

“That hunger you’ve got?” he said, dropping his arm and looking out over the court as Hinata practiced his cut shot. “Hold onto it, and remember that feeling. Remember how it feels to sit out of the game, and use that as your drive when you get back. We’re counting on our service ace.”

His cheeks flooded with pride and warmth, and he cleared his throat quickly to nod.

“Yes, sir!”

Ukai laughed and clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit! Now go warm up, and then we’ll start the actual practice!”

Tadashi nodded and turned to jog over to where Tsukki was just starting his stretches. When he dropped his water bottle next to Tsukki’s bottle and towel, a blonde brow arched in question. The unspoken _well?_ practically echoed in the silence, and Tadashi let out a weary sound, half sigh and half laugh.

“I’m stuck running and practicing receives,” he admitted, rolling his shoulder a little. “Go figure, eh?”

“Good,” Tsukki said simply, with no malice, but it still sank a stone in the pit of Tadashi’s stomach.

“H-hey,” he protested weakly, his mind spinning out of his control. Maybe Tsukki really _did_ think he was pretty pathetic, in retrospect. “I’m not _that_ bad at receives–”

“Not that,” Tadashi watched as Tsukki lifted his arm to grasp his elbow, lightly pulling it in and stretching. He had to look away, at Tsukki’s sneakers instead of the way his shirt bunched around his shoulders when he stretched, and focused on what he was saying and not how he was moving. “If he let you practice like normal, you’d just go overboard. You’ve been too antsy to get back.”

Tadashi crashed back to the earth in waves–first with a soft rush of breath, relief, when he realized that Tsukki wasn’t insulting his volleyball skill, followed by the flood of warmth when he processed that this was his friend’s way of saying that he _cared_ and was worried for him and his health, and finally with the soft whisper of _I should have known that’s what he meant all along_.

The way Tsukki cared was certainly subtle, if Tadashi was being kind, fluid at best, and usually hidden beneath a veil of snark. It was intangible–fleeting, abstract, and something that Tadashi tried to grasp at and failed every time.

It was the push and pull, he supposed, of being around Tsukishima Kei.

He didn’t have the words to argue, so he groaned and started doing his stretches. Tsukki watched for a long moment but then focused on his own warm ups. Tadashi almost wished he would say something, but he didn’t have the nerve to look over at him for extended periods of time when he could still feel that his cheeks were warm.

Tsukki finished his stretches first and stood while Tadashi was still on the ground, and glanced over. Ennoshita started calling the team together for laps and Tadashi straightened up into a sitting position, grimacing a little at the prospect. He made to push himself up and stopped short when he realized which arm he’d been preparing to use, but then a hand was in front of him.

“C’mon,” Tsukki grunted, looking deliberately at his own hand.

Tadashi grinned sheepishly and took it. “Thanks, Tsukki!”

As his friend hauled him to his feet, Tadashi took a moment to flex his right hand again, making a fist and loosening it. The twinge in his overused elbow was minimal, and he really thought he should be allowed to serve at least once or twice instead of being relegated to laps and receives.

It was like Tsukki could read his mind. When his hand fell from Tadashi’s grasp, he gave the pinch server a quick stare, sizing him up, and said bluntly, “Don’t overdo it, Yamaguchi.”

Sheepish, Tadashi laughed and agreed easily, following Tsukki to where the team was gathering. He _wanted_ to serve, that was certain, but he wasn’t going to do it if the coach didn’t want him to. Ukai had his best interest in mind, and even if he was annoyed, he knew it was still better to be cautious. And seeing Hinata send one decently powerful serve successfully over the net right before he and Kageyama jogged over to join everyone else, even if it landed out of bounds by a margin of inches, didn’t help the fire that had been ignited in the pit of his stomach.

 _I want to serve_.

Ennoshita cast one look at him and then warned the rest of the team that Tadashi wasn’t supposed to be spiking or serving for the week, and he wondered if he was really that transparent.

With the rest of the team watching him with their beady eyes for the rest of practice, he figured he _must_ be that transparent. He admitted as much to Tsukki when they walked home, and he scoffed.

“You couldn’t hide that if you wanted to,” he pointed out, shifting his bag on his shoulder. Then, slowly, he asked, “How’s the arm?”

Tadashi ducked his head a little, flexing his hand again. “Better. It’s a little stiff, but I’ve just got to do the exercises the doctor showed me when I get home and it should be better. That receive that hit pretty high up didn’t feel too great, though…”

He trailed off, wondering if he should have omitted that, but Tsukki hummed a little, as if he’d expected it.

“I still want to practice my serves!” he did a short jump, slowly working his arm through the motion with no discomfort, save for the stiffness already there. “But I’ll wait until coach gives me the go ahead, otherwise he’ll kill me and you’ll give me the _pathetic_ face.”

“The _pathetic_ face?”

His tone was carefully neutral, and Tadashi cringed. “I said that out loud.”

Tsukki hummed the affirmative. Tadashi’s shoulders rose to his ears and he avoided looking at the other until Tsukki finally asked, “What do you mean, the _pathetic_ face?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing!” he tried, falsely cheery as he peeked up at Tsukki’s face. He was unamused but not angry, and Tadashi hoped he stayed that way. He raised his hands in front of him in a gesture of surrender and offered, “Sorry, Tsukki!”

“It’s not nothing,” Tsukki lightly tapped the headphones around his neck. “Would it be better for me to give you a disappointed face? An angry face?” he tilted his head, and was using the tone he used a little when he was mocking Tanaka.

Tadashi groaned. Tsukki was starting to get a little irritated, if he was using that tone with him.

“It’s the same face you make when you think someone’s being uncool,” he muttered, averting his gaze.

“Is that all?” he scoffed. “If that’s all it is, then I’m already making that face at you.”

Tadashi stiffened and spared a glance over. Tsukki wasn’t entirely wrong, because that was definitely a _you’re being uncool_ kind of expression, with the blank look and the slightly disgruntled twist of his lips, but it wasn’t his completely disgusted _pathetic_ face. Maybe he wouldn’t mention the difference.

He glanced off down the street and sighed. “Yeah, I know I’m being lame.”

“Yeah, you are.”

 _Let it be known that Tsukishima Kei doesn’t draw his punches_ , Tadashi thought with a sort of subdued grin.

“Not because you’re impatient,” he added, and Tadashi waited for a harsher blow that never quite came. “It’s because you keep trying to think _for_ me instead of letting me do it for myself. That’s kind of annoying, Yamaguchi.”

He flushed and ducked his head again.

“Sorry, Tsukki…”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Tsukki sighed, moving to clean his glasses. Tadashi realized that they were stopped on the corner of his street, where they usually parted ways, but he couldn’t bring himself to walk away when Tsukki so clearly seemed like he was planning to say more. And then he did. “You know me better than anyone else, probably. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

 _You know me better than anyone else_. Tadashi’s heart couldn’t take it when Tsukki said things like that in the blatant, matter-of-fact way he had.

He still managed to rediscover his vocal chords to ask, “Which thing?”

Tsukki turned, facing the way towards his house, and answered, “You’re the one person that I could never call pathetic.”

Tadashi’s mouth dropped open, but before he could think of a response of any kind, Tsukki was pulling his headphones over his ears. “Wh-what…?”

With a quick glance over his shoulder, Tsukki called as hort, “See you,” and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

How was it fair that he could be so calm and collected when Tadashi thought his face would catch on fire? He couldn’t just _say_ things like that! But he felt a bit creepy, standing and watching Tsukki’s retreating back, so he slapped his cheeks and took a deep breath to steady himself.

It was moments like these that made him question his sanity, or his taste, in falling for Tsukishima Kei. But it was also moments like these that he got a glimpse into how much Tsukki really cared, and he felt like that balanced out somehow. He flexed his arm again, remembered Tsukki telling him not to overdo it, and grinned to himself. He started to work through some of the exercises he’d been given by the doctor for his injury as he turned to head down the street towards home.

It would all work out, and he’d be damned if he let Hinata get any further ahead of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My first crack at yamatsukki, so it was kind of a character study, too. Hope it turned out okay! :D
> 
> Hit me up at my HQ sideblog on tumblr, [karasun013](http://karasun013.tumblr.com) or my multifandom/personal mainblog at [panda013](http://panda013.tumblr.com)!


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